


Heart Full of Hurt

by scifichicx



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Missing Scene, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 22:45:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2524472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifichicx/pseuds/scifichicx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A take on the rest of the Fitzsimmons reunion scene, in which they love each other so much it hurts, but they’re so hurt they don’t know how to love each other. After they upset each other Jemma runs into Trip and Fitz's thoughts turn against him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart Full of Hurt

Seeing her again felt like a strange dream; the kind where you wake up unsettled and disoriented, unsure of what is real. He’d looked over to see what all the commotion was about and there she was. Jemma Simmons. Her hair was shorter and there were other, intangible differences that registered somewhere deep in his chest. No matter; it was her. When he got a real look at her, she turned ever so slightly, like he’d lit a beacon she’d been waiting to find. Their eyes met through glass and distance.

Panic, joy, cold dread and hot emotion punctured Simmons straight through the heart when she caught Fitz peering at her from the depth of the lab. The conversation happening around her was swallowed by a fierce ringing in her ears. She glanced back at Coulson, and he understood. She didn’t want him to understand. She wanted to be a strong, brave SHIELD agent- not a lost little girl hanging on news of her best friend. Coulson gave her permission to go to him and the weight of too many months apart made itself known all over again. _It’s time to face your weakness, little girl._ Guilt and shame tore at her but she found the courage to open the door.

  
Fitz watched her take her time coming into the lab. Controlled motions and delayed eye contact gave Fitz the impression that Simmons was undertaking some sort of distasteful chore. Still, he was drawn to her, and his feet brought him as close as he dare go. She straightened up and looked at him. A strange wave of emotions passed over her face.

As she watched him timidly approach, looking at her in a way that broke her heart all over again, she writhed under her own self-judgment. Her thoughts screamed the fears of what he must think of her and she was brutally struck with the notion that there was no excuse for what she had done. Shame overtook her and all the apologies and explanations she could have offered died on her tongue. She remembered a time when she would have run to him and clung to him. Those memories felt like a photo from someone else’s life. This man she had known so well was a stranger to her, and in light the things she had discovered about herself while she was at Hydra, she was the same to him. But god-she was so happy to see him. “Hi, Fitz,” she said. What the hell else could she say?

“Simmons,” he responded. His voice was soft and sounded automatic, as though speaking her name was simply a well-remembered habit. Her heart twisted. “Is that really you?” he added. Hope choked by hurt and doubt pulled at his features.

She smiled a little and laughed softly. “Of course it is. Who else would it be?”

He nodded dismissively. She squirmed, whispering _I’m sorry_ , to him over and over in her mind. She called up her courage and walked closer to him. The distance that felt right was still so far away. Her nerves collided with her emotions and she found herself capable of little more than babbling small talk. “So, how’ve you been?” she asked him.

He stared at her, his expression nearly blank, but hidden deep below was a fierce rage and biting hurt. Thoughts crashed through, too rough and quick to become words. _You left me. I was a mess. Broken. Insane. Useless. Daft. Lonely. Lonely. Lonely._ He turned away from her abruptly and found a tool on the desk that he could focus on. He mentally identified the tool and used that to ground him. “Ah,” his eyes scrunched closed and he folded his arms tightly. “Yeah, um. Okay.” He nodded, and kept nodding. “I’ve been alright. You?” He managed to glance at her at that last bit, but could only manage it for a second.

She remembered sobbing herself to sleep at night and waking up gasping, arms thrashing through icy ocean water that was far away from her lonely bed. She thought of rushing out of the Hydra lab to tuck into a bathroom stall; hands pressed over her mouth to hide her hitching, shaking breath while hot tears dripped over her knuckles. She thought of waking up on the floor, wickedly ill and reeking of cheap vodka and how she only let it happen about once every few weeks. Jemma squirmed and pulled the same tight, false smile that she had grown so familiar with these past months. “Fine,” she wrinkled her nose as she said it and he knew she was lying. That made a door slam shut somewhere inside of him and he cast his eyes down. She shrugged a little and looked weary, “Happy to be home.”

His brows twitched and his nostrils flared. “Are you?” he shot back. He managed to meet her eyes for just an instant and there was so much bitterness there.

She took in a breath and managed to stop herself from taking a step back from him. Her chest ached. “I am,” Jemma replied, a hint of pleading in her tone.

Fitz nodded again. “Good. Fine.” He braced his hands on the desk in front of him, staring blankly toward the other side of the room. “S’Good.” He waved his hand dismissively at her. “I’ve got work to do.”

“Did you-“ she began.

He turned to her and his blue eyes had never looked so icy. “I’ve got it, Jemma.”

She felt the tears well in her eyes and she clamped down hard on her emotions. The tears obeyed and didn’t fall. She took a step back from him, nodding a little. “Right. Of course you do. I-“ She searched his eyes and he blinked and looked down. His hand started tapping wildly at the desk top. Jemma took another step back, stumbling for words. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly before turning around.

From the corner of his eye, Fitz could see her rush out of the lab. He gripped the edge of the desk, breathing heavily. Frustration boiled over and he lashed out, slapping the tool off the desk. Some of the scientists looked over when it clattered to the floor and Fitz stared each of them down. “Do ya have something to say to me!?” he yelled. He slapped at the desk again, this time sending a stack of papers fluttering through the air. “Say it!” They stared at him and rage wasn’t enough to fight the agony of being judged. He shook his right hand and bounced in place.

Looking.

Looking at him.

They were all looking at him.

He turned abruptly and stormed out of the lab.

…..

Jemma didn’t know that Coulson was talking to Skye about something personal and important. She didn’t know that May was showing Bobbi around the base. She just knew that she felt like a stranger here. New faces threw her curious glances as she tore down the hall, red-faced and trying to hide it by keeping her head down and her hair in the way. It obscured her vision and she didn’t notice Trip coming around a corner until she smacked into him. She gasped and bounced back a bit- he was solid after all.

“Careful, there,” he said, sounding carefree and warm as usual. She nodded and tried to smile, but once he got a good look at her his casual friendliness softened into concern. “Hey, you okay?”

She tried to say yes. She tried to put on the same strong face she lived in. Instead she sniffled and then trembled. Grief twisted her features and she ducked her head as her eyes screwed shut. Seeing her like this told Trip a lot about why she had left. She had seemed surprisingly put-together when Fitz was in the coma and then just starting to recover. She’d been quiet and distant, but it wasn’t until this moment that he got a good look at what was happening under the surface. He made a little sigh and opened his arms, then closed the space between them and wrapped her in a hug.

It took a moment, but finally Jemma hugged him back. She clutched at him and shook with sobs, even as she fought to not make a sound. She pressed her face against Trip’s chest and for a moment she felt like she was actually hidden from the world. He held her and let her fall apart. He had the strongest feeling that no one had let her do that yet. From experience, he knew how important it was to be able to let all the pain out. “It’s okay, Simmons. I’ve got you.”

He heard her whimper and lose her grip. He was strong enough to hold her up. Tiny, heart-wrenching sobs bubbled out of her. He rocked her slowly and pet her hair. Minutes passed and eventually she slumped against him, silent and spent. Still, he held her up. “I’m sorry,” she finally murmured.

“Don’t.” Trip drew back from her and framed her face with his hands. He wiped her tears away with his thumbs. “Don’t ever feel bad for having that big heart.”

Jemma wiped her nose with her wrist. “I don’t want you to see me like this. None of you.”

Trip gave her a sad, faint smile. He was radiating compassion. “You want to be strong; for the team.”

She nodded.

He took her by the chin and tilted her face up. She was red and puffy. Strands of hair were stuck to her cheeks. “You be as strong as you need to be,” he told her. “Do what you’ve gotta do to get through your day. If that means cry, then you’ve gotta cry. You bottle it up and you’re just hurting yourself.”

She stared at him for a moment, and then touched the back of his hand with her fingertips. She offered him a faint but sincere smile. “I missed you,” she said.

He smiled back. They felt a moment come and go; a moment where lips could have met and things could have become infinitely more complicated. They let it go. It was better that way. It was honest. She closed her eyes and briefly rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. Then, with a steadying breath, she pulled away. “Thank you,” she told him.

He nodded, “Any time. And I mean that.” He gave her arm a gentle squeeze and got another little smile for his trouble. “You want me to walk with you?”

She looked down the half remembered corridor. “Actually, yeah. If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind. Come on.” Trip turned and set his hand on the small of her back to guide her down the hall. The contact was slight, but it was so much more than anyone had offered her in ages. She took comfort in it and for the first time she felt some of the burdens that weighed on her begin to ease.

…….

Fitz dropped back into the shadows. He couldn’t get close enough to hear, but when he stormed into the hallway and saw Jemma leaning into Trip’s arms he was sure he didn’t want to hear it anyway. He watched Trip touch her face and the way she responded so fondly to it. Jealousy burned in his gut. When they walked towards the bunks together Fitz felt ill.

Jemma’s voice interrupted Leo’s misery from just behind his ear, “Guess we know why she came back.”

Fitz spun and narrowed his eyes at the imaginary Simmons that plagued him. “You are the last person I want to see right now.”

Simmons quirked an eyebrow, “We both know that’s not true.”

“You are not real,” Fitz hissed.

“No, but at least I’ll say more than three words to you.”

Fitz shook. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his hands into fists. “I don’t want you,” he growled. Simmons reached for him and he slapped her hand away. “No. No more.”

“Fitz, you need to calm down,” she told him.

“I’ll calm down if you leave,” his voice came out strained.

“Don’t blame this on me,” she shot back. “If you really didn’t want me here I couldn’t be here.”

Fitz whimpered and crumbled into a tearless, quiet sob. He scrubbed his face with his hand and took deep breaths to get a grip on his composure. He felt “Jemma’s” hand rest on his shoulder and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching up and gripping at it.

“There you go,” Simmons soothed. “Deep breaths. Wouldn’t want to hyperventilate.”

Finally he got passed the worst of the panic attack. He leaned against the wall, swallowed further by the shadows in the bleak, brick hallway. The image of Jemma and Triplet walking away together clung to his thoughts. He shouldn’t care. He was ready to move on. He had been ready to move on and then she came back and tore that idea to pieces. He opened his eyes and Simmons was watching him, an arm’s length away. She tilted her head, a look of understanding crossed her face and she stepped closer to him. Fitz pressed himself back against the bricks but he couldn’t get away from the phantom- but vivid sensation of Simmons leaning against him.

“This isn’t what I want-“ Fitz whispered.

Simmons brought her face close to his. “Strange what jealousy can stir up.”

His eyes snapped closed, “Not this. Not like this.”

“You can feel me, Fitz.” She punctuated the idea by snuggling up. It was true, he could feel her; the shape of her, the weight, and the warmth. “You can see me. You can hear me. All of those wicked little things, churning around in the dark corners. We both know you’ve thought about it.”

“Not what I want,” he said again. He was too flustered now, and the words skipped and replayed in his head like a needle skipping in a record groove.

“You can’t get what you want,” she cooed. He could feel her fingers comb through his hair. “But I give you what you need. I always do.”

Was this his fate? Destined to spiral into a hallucinatory fantasy world whenever his absent lab partner gave his heart a particularly brutal twist? Fitz shook his head.

“Not what I want.”

“I know what you want,” she soothed.

“Don’t,” he begged.

“Leo…” she whispered.

Tears welled in his eyes, “Please…” He felt a soft kiss to his cheek. His breath hitched. Then a kiss to his brow, his forehead, peppered down to the other cheek. “Jemma-don’t.”

“I love you,” she murmured to him.

He sobbed and slammed his hand back against the wall. The pain registered and he abruptly pushed Simmons away. “Stop,” he choked out, voice raw.

Simmons was ever composed. “You need to talk to her,” she told him.

He shook his head, “Can’t.”

She folded her arms, “Yes, you can. And you will, you know why?” He stared back at her, waiting to hear whatever it was his subconscious had for him. “Because she was your best friend and she abandoned you when you needed her the most. She can’t accept that you’re different so she ran away. You should be angry, Fitz! Tell her. Tell her you’re not useless. Tell her all those things that have been burning at you since she lied and left.”

Fitz felt strangely calm. He wasn’t shaking anymore. He looked at Simmons, vaguely rolling around the bitter notion that his only friend turned out to be himself. He opened his mouth to speak, but the effort didn’t even feel worth it. Instead, he nodded. Jemma reached over and briefly squeezed his shoulder. Fitz sighed and after a blink she was gone.

But she wasn’t gone.

She was back.

And he had some things to tell her.


End file.
